Know The Rules, Then Break Them
by Snarky Holophrasis
Summary: Prison changes people – it hardens them, it traumatizes them, and it breaks them. Prison hardens children; prison traumatizes children; but most of all prisons… they break children. "Your life will be miserable to the core, but don't worry, it was already meaningless to begin with." *2


**A/N:** I... I can't explain this, haha. I can say is that I had this first idea, along with a few notes and passages for a few months; it has been in my notebook for that long. It wasn't until today that I decided to play around with the idea and see what I could come up with. I'm taking a break from studying... Shh. I never wrote this... uh, I don't even know what kind of writing this is - but I've never written this way before!

Let me know what you think? Pretty please?

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Gakuen Alice. All rights belong to Higuchi Tachibana.

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 ** _Know the Rules, Then Break Them_**  
by Snarky Holophrasis

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It is dark. _Very dark._

The room is pitch black. On the far side of the chamber is a small, square window – the window can hardly be called one; it is, in simpler terms, merely a hole in the wall that was chipped into a lopsided quadrangular shape. What lay beyond the window dissolved into nothingness – a fuzzy gray haze shrouds the view as the nothingness dissipates and expands into a boundless void.

The floor is rough. The jagged stone and ragged flooring are uncomfortable and hard. A moldy, musky odor filled the premises, dank and unpleasant. The air is stiff, thick with tension and suffocation – it could hardly pass off as useful oxygen.

The silence of the surroundings is serrated—broken.

Distant, uncanny creaks seem to haunt this place; gates slam firmly shut, battered doors hung from rusty hinges that squeaked in eerie protest, and distant inhuman whispers swirl through the air, further contributing to the lack of breathable oxygen. Far away, foreign growls gnarl from lips curl upwards maliciously. Distant screams voicelessly rock one to the very core.

Swiftly.

In a ghostly manner.

Ears strain until they burn until they catch wisps of madly insane, ruthless howls. The barks come to a rapid halt, and a small shiver runs through the shutters of the secluded room.

Insects—lots of them. They infest the nooks and crannies, slithering, crawling, and creeping. They are silent creatures, hidden in a cloak of darkness, out of sight and hushed.

A motionless outline is pressed against the grimy wall, stiff and unconscious.

A mute, secretive centipede slowly crawls across the floor, heading towards its target. It burrows deeply into a fold of cloth. The centipede's insect friends follow in suite.

A low hum of life radiates thinly, weakly, through the bleak graffiti-covered walls. The occasional patter of rat feet echo softly, secretively, hollowly against the stony floor. Eroded walls proving to stand as their habitual abodes, critter life was abundant as they expertly maneuver themselves away from stray beams of light.

The centipede had made its way through the many ravels of material – it crawled slowly and surely, navigating itself through the maze of fabric. Reaching the center of the cloth cocoon, it pinches unsurely against a foreign, different texture.

The bulky figure's only response was a lengthy inhale before stilling. Sensing no danger, the centipede continued crawling.

A noisy clatter gives way to an angry mob of low, bickering voies.

The insect remains undisturbed. It is unobstructed by the unusual commotion, undisturbed by the apparent lack of oxygen.  
It finds a soft spot, fleshy and warm. Sinking its little claws into the area, it invoked a ragged moan. Undeterred, it continues pinching as it inches upwards slowly, twitching.

A scream.

Somehow managing to fall away from the thick bulk, it scuttles away hurriedly, frightened, and anxious to get away.

The unsupported, eroding ceilings threaten to collapse.

With a buzz and a splutter, faint artificial lights flicker on. The eerie lighting glints against the metal pipes and bars on the far side of the cramped room. Corrupted by stone walls encircling the perimeters, cracks and fissures helped deepen the thick uneasiness evoked by the setting.

A faded, red door is chained shut. The paint is peeled, and the handle was eaten away through time and rust. A barred window is positioned in the center of the door – iron beams took the place of glass.

A gruff voice mimicked the grating noise of helium balloons rubbing against one another. Low and gruff, it snarls, "Hey." The owner pounded on the weakening door, "You aywake yat, kid?" His face peers through the bars. Features outlined in the half-lit light, his rough features, battered facial attributes, and sagging eye bags pointed toward a long, grueling life with sleepless nights and arduous tasks.

There was no answer for the man.

The figure previously enwrapped within its bundles of cloth now sat indifferently against the corroding walls. Knees bent inward and feet turned in, her legs were slightly apart; the silhouette remained silent, arms cumbersomely crossed against one another atop bent knees. The faint motion of inhaling and exhaling aside, it offered no immediate sign of life.

"Shtewipd gerd fer nuffing crymirnel tot," the intruder spat. Spitting through the barred window, the crude man lets loose a string of profanities before stomping profusely away. Even with his body gone, the clanking of his countless keys, his callous trace, and the saliva droplets remained.

The bulk stirred slightly. Tongue clicking rhythmically, the once-still form gave a head shake. Head lifting towards the dim light, a face smeared with grime and soot reveals an individual – said gender was undecipherable.

Dull, glowing eyes scanned the unceremonious room.

Parched lips twitched in annoyance. Dark, dirty hair was piled sloppily against her – or what could be assumed to be a female – head; it was pulled into a messy, hassled bun.

Her hands were tied together cruelly and the string bit menacingly into her skin. The bindings had, however, failed to withhold her ability to maneuver her arms. The sturdy build struggled against the substantial rope around her wrists, teeth grit and air sucked in through her cheeks as she silenced the whimper of pain threatening to surface from her throat.

An outside scream reached her ears.

It is pained, hollowed, and inhumane. It was if the very breadth of life was ripped forcefully from the throat.

A shudder ran down her spine.

Frowning, she struggled to her feet. Attempting to defy time, she rose slowly. Tiny beads of perspiration formed at the roots of her grime-encrusted hair. She buckled as pain engulfed her midsection. It tore through her stomach and set her entrails on fire – it felt as if her guts were mashed into tiny atoms before someone proceeded to wrench her insides out of her body. Cradling her stomach agonizingly with her grazed elbows, she steadied herself by leaning against her back. In a half-crouch and half-standing position, she dared not move.

Moments passed.

The thick air moved on, bringing a steely scent of metal and day-old blood. Another torturous scream whizzed through the air.

The figure in the small cell mustered her last ounce of strength. Swallowing, she heaved and slid to her knees. Grunting, she shut her eyes as an invisible knife slashed through her abdomen and forced an obligatory pant through her parted jaws. Scowling as several loose strands of filthy hair fell across her eyes, she shook her head. With a sharp intake of breath, she remained in a kneeling position, back arched. Shifting, she threw her body weight onto her elbows and glared at the thick rope sawing into her skin.

The faint patter of feet briefly came to her attention. With a little scoff, she muttered, "Come on out."

Several rats, preferably mice, scurried up and nuzzled her elbows before running away.

With a resolute sigh, she closed her eyes and shifted uncomfortably as yesterday's memories nipped at her conscience.

She jumped slightly. The sound of swinging hinges startled her.

Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. The fine hairs along her neck bristled slightly as she bit her lip in silent apprehension.

The red door in front of her swung open to reveal a spray-painted, oddly disfigured skull sprayed on the other side of the walls. With a pained grunt, she heaved herself forward on all fours and inched forward slowly.

Suppressing a yelp when her knees came in contact with her battered wrists, she steeled herself and several excruciating moments later, found herself at the entrance of the stifling room. Swallowing the bile rising from her throat, she calmed her jitters and cautiously squinted up and down the darkening corridor.

An unnatural breeze blew past. It reeked of rotting masses and old blood. The girl froze, wrinkled her nose, and bit her lip again. The air here was even heavier; the suffocation had multiplied mercilessly. Preferring the disintegrated room to the eerie hallways, she backed slowly away from the swinging door and resumed her struggle with her rope bindings.

Tugging her wrists away from one another as one last attempt to escape the insistent digging, the rope snapped suddenly and her heart crowed miraculously before she released a shaky breath. As soon as it arrived, however, the elatedness left, and the sharp abdominal pain in her stomach returned.

As her newly freed hands clutched her stomach, she sucked in her breath clenched her hands into fists. During her dilemma, she felt an uncomfortable prick at her spine. Suppressing the agony, she willed her back to straighten.

Alert, she narrowed her eyes. Moments passed and there was nothing to be heard – nothing, that is, but the wind, screaming somewhere around the corner. But something, someone was there.

Sense heightened and sharpened, suspicion radiated off her body.

A dark, four-legged creature dropped from above, landing soundlessly on the hollow ground.

The girl inhaled sharply. It was a man clad in black. He had his back toward her. Gravely, she braced herself for the reveal.

He turned slowly, his leather shoes kicking up small puffs of smoky dust.

She bristled. Straining her eyes against the dimness, she frowned and backed away on all fours. Her heart beat painfully in its rib-cage; she was desperate to set it free and to bring serenity into her veins and calm to her features. But there was no such thing.

The black shadow faced her.

She gasped, mortified. Disregarding the fire in her body and the sharp agony in her bleeding wrists, she clenched her fists slowly. Feeling the wall with her feet, she stopped. Unable to bear the heated gaze she was receiving, she dropped her head and went limp. Silent beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and into her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. Hearing, and feeling, the unwelcome guest's footsteps echo closer, she stubbornly held her ground.

He chuckled. "You aren't going anywhere and you know that," he cooed. He crouched down in his leather pants. In a deep, low voice, he said in a raspy tone, inches away from the girl's face, "Still not broken yet, are we?" He stood up. Sighing, he reached into his coat jacket and brandished a long whip.

The girl knew what was coming. She gritted her teeth and remained silent.

"Would you like to say anything?" he said languidly, "Beg, perhaps? Say _please_ , and this whip will not touch you." The man wound the leather around his long fingers, playing with the blood-stained tassel.

The girl remained silent. Nothing would allow her to speak, to _plead_. Every fiber of her being detested to such actions. She gulped and kept her mouth shut.

The man touched her head, trailing his nails across her scalp. "It truly is a pity. You never do learn, do you?" he patted her. "There are rules," he whispered, bending forward, "That you have to follow. I gave you a chance, didn't I?" His breath tickled her nape and traveled through her ears.

The girl scrunched her eyes shut, but she dare not flinch.

The man straightened. "Very well. So be it." Without another word, he brought the whip mercilessly upon arched back.

As if the different courses of pain running through her insides were not enough, a whiplash tore her mortal being into two. It was as if lightning had struck her across her back, but refused to stop there. The sensation tortured her mind to stay awake, to remain conscious.

As the man recoiled the whip, she collapsed, stunned. "That is sure to leave marks," he remarked wryly. He ran his second and third finger across the piece of material. Pocketing the whip, he crouched onto the soles of his feet yet again.

The girl's world grew darker. Her eyesight doubled as she lay on the ground, motionless. Her breathing shallow, she curled her fingers against her body.

"Trust me," he whispered lowly, "By the time you leave this place, I swear to God that you will be the most obeying, wonderful female this prison has ever produced." He ran a hand through her hair, slowly, and entrancingly.

Body numb and tingling, the girl merely nodded weakly as if in a stupor. Inhaling once more, her world dimmed to a fuzzy gray and everything flickered slowly before it gave way to a hushed, tainted darkness.

The man in black straightened. Making his way swiftly out the door, he uttered brusquely, "To break the rules, you must learn them first."

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 **A/N:** Tell me what you think? Drop a review? Follow? Favorite? The choice is yours!  
Thanks for reading!

 _Snarky Holophrasis_ , November 24th, 2015


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